Loose Ends and Fellow Travelers
by pungster
Summary: After Bartlet's removes himself from office, Leo looks out for everyone and finds that others are looking out for him


Loose Ends and Fellow Travelers-Post "25".  
  
The West Wing, 2:15am  
  
  
  
Leo watched the door close behind Jed as the Justice finished adminstrating the Oath of  
  
Office, then his eyes turned to his staff. He watched them as Walken's aides stepped  
  
forward to congratulate him, and he saw them react to them calling him "Mr. President."   
  
Toby, with his hands behind him, eyes slightly downcast. C.J. looking stunned, but in  
  
control. Will, taking it all in and accepting it. And Josh-Poor Josh. The kid looked like  
  
a bunch of bullies had barrelled in and taken over his treehouse. Well, Leo knew what to  
  
do.  
  
"Mr. President." he said, "How would you like to proceed?"  
  
Walken turned toward him. "I want to get caught up on what's gone on so far tonight, so  
  
let's meet with Ron Butterfield, Admiral Fitzwallace and Dr. McNally." He turned to them.  
  
"If you don't mind waiting a moment in the Roosevelt Room - and if the Senior Staff would  
  
wait in your office, Leo-I'd like a minute with you first."  
  
"Certainly, Mr. President." He cocked his head at the staff. The room emptied, and  
  
Walken unbuttoned his jacket, and poured himself a drink. Leo stood where he was,  
  
waiting.  
  
"Hell of a night." Walken said, sitting on the couch. He gestured for Leo to join him.  
  
Leo sat across from him, still waiting.  
  
"I imagine you're going to go up to the Residence at some point."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'd like you to let the Barlets know that no one's going to evict them from the  
  
Residence. I've got a perfectly good house here..."  
  
Sir...if I may?" Leo interrupted, "I think Ron Butterfield is going to have something to  
  
say about this-we are still at the highest level of security, and he is going to insist  
  
you be in the White House."  
  
"I don't like how it would look to the public."  
  
"The Senior Staff will know how to handle it, with your approval, of course. As for the  
  
Bartlets..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"The Vice Presidential Residence is presently available. It would provide them the space  
  
and security they need."  
  
"O.K.-We'll go over it later when we talk about the joint press conference." Walkin took  
  
another sip of his drink, and set the glass done. He leaned in toward Leo. "One  
  
thing-I'll be bringing over a few members of my staff with me-you and I will sit down  
  
later and talk about where they'll fit in-but you need to tell your crew the same thing  
  
I'll be telling mine. This isn't going to be an armed camp. We aren't the Sharks and the  
  
Jets-I won't tolerate that. This is the West Wing."  
  
"Absolutely, Sir." Leo said. "May I ask, when is Mrs. Walken arriving?"  
  
"The day after tomorrow. Butterfield already briefed me on the security she's being  
  
provided."  
  
"With your permission, Sir-I'll have Ron, Admiral Fitzwallace and Dr. McNally brief you  
  
now, while I'll brief the Senior Staff. Then I'd like to go up to the Residence."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Shall we all meet about the press conference at-say-3:15?"  
  
"Fine. Ask my staff to wait in the Roosevelt Room while I'm being briefed."  
  
"Very well, Sir." Leo said. As he reached the door, he turned back. "Sir?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"The Senior Staff are not *my* crew, Sir-they're yours. Fitzwallace, Ron, Nancy-everyone  
  
here-they took an oath to serve the President. Not *a* President. I promise you, they  
  
will all honor that oath."  
  
"Alright." Walken said, getting up. He walked toward Leo, and held out his hand. "Point  
  
taken." The two men shook hands, each with private thoughts that the other could not  
  
read. For the moment, they were satified with that.  
  
Leo's Office, 2:30am  
  
  
  
He could hear the drone of the voices within before he opened his office door, but they  
  
died out as he entered. His staff was sprawled on his couch and chairs, and they looked  
  
up at him expectantly.  
  
"Relax, everybody." Leo said. He sat behind his desk and put his glasses on. "Here's  
  
what comes next."  
  
Leo told them what their President required of them. He answered their questions. They  
  
talked about the press conference. All the while, Leo gauged the reactions of his staff.  
  
They were pretty much as he had expected they would be. He had already known-even before  
  
he walked in-who the wild card would be. Finally, he rose from his chair.  
  
"I'm going up to the Residence for a few minutes. We'll meet back here in a half hour. I  
  
want us to have our ducks in a row before we meet with the President again."  
  
"Will we be seeing...President Bartlet before the press conference?" C.J.  
  
asked. "I mean...we still *address* him as President Bartlet, don't we?"  
  
"Yes, you damn well do, and ..." Leo paused. "I don't know about the other-not yet  
  
anyway. Let's face it, Guys-everyone's going to be on guard, eyes peeled for anything  
  
that might..."  
  
"Yeah." Toby said, quietly.  
  
"Anyway, get to work. Josh, walk me out, will you?"   
  
Josh peeled himself off the couch and followed Leo out the door. Leo walked a few steps  
  
away from the closed door, and turned to face Josh.  
  
"Do you ever wonder why you get your clock cleaned everytime you play poker with us?"  
  
"What?" Josh said, startled.  
  
"It's because you have a lousy poker face, Josh. Right now, you look like somebody  
  
killed your dog."  
  
"Leo..."   
  
"You need to calm down, Josh-you need to focus. I *need* you focused." he said bluntly.  
  
"I am.." Josh stammered.  
  
"No, you're not. Josh. I could hear your stomach acid churning from across the room. It  
  
happened-we have to live with it-work within it. We can't do *anyone* any good unless we  
  
do. I don't want to see you with a chip on your shoulder when his staff is around, do you  
  
hear me?"  
  
"Sure. O.K."  
  
"I need to get up to the Residence-get back to work."  
  
"Leo..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You had me...working on that thing. Should I keep working on it?"  
  
"What thing?"  
  
"The Vice Presidential thing." Josh looked down at his shoes.  
  
"Put it in a drawer." Leo said, turning away.  
  
"O.K."  
  
"Oh, and look..." Leo said, turning back.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"About the press conference. The wording. Call Sam."  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Sam-this is the kind of thing where he kicks ass."  
  
"Sure, but...don't you think Will would mind?"  
  
"It was Toby and Will who suggested it to me a while ago. But the call should come from  
  
you."  
  
"Sure, Leo..." Josh looked at his watch. "I'll try to catch him. He's still in Japan on  
  
vacation. I have no idea what time it is there..."  
  
For the first time all night, Leo grinned. "You think they don't have CNN in Japan? You  
  
think Sam hasn't been glued to it? With his cell phone in his hand? Call him."  
  
The Residence, 2:50am  
  
On his way up from the West Wing, he stopped at one of the bathrooms. He looked at  
  
himself in the mirror. So far, so good. He looked at his hands. His tension could still  
  
not be noticed there but he clenched them several times, just to be sure. He splashed  
  
cold water in his face. He stood there a moment, leaning on the sink, slowly breathing in  
  
and out. He whispered his mantra.  
  
"O.k...o.k..."   
  
Finally, combing his hair and straightening his tie, he continued on to the Residence.  
  
Charlie sat in a chair outside the President's bedroom, and he stood up as Leo  
  
approached.  
  
"Is there any news?"  
  
"Nothing new. How are you holding up?"  
  
"I'm O.K.", Charlie said, his face set in stone.  
  
"I'm going to try and get him to at least take a nap for a while. You should to. He's  
  
going to need you more than ever in the next few days. And it's not like you aren't  
  
feeling..."  
  
"I promise I'll try."   
  
"O.k. Is he in there?"  
  
"He's been waiting for you." Charlie knocked on the door, and they heard Abbey's voice.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Leo opened the door. Abbey was curled up on the couch, a throw covering her legs. The  
  
only light came from the television, turned to CNN with the sound muted. She looked up at  
  
the doorway. "Any news?"  
  
"Nothing new, Abbey. May I come in?"  
  
"Please." Leo closed the door and sat next to her on the couch. "Jed's in his study,  
  
talking to Annie on the phone. Elizabeth told her what was going on...she wanted to talk  
  
to Grandpa."  
  
"I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to come and see you until now, Abbey."  
  
"You were where I needed you to be, Leo."   
  
"How are you holding up?"  
  
"I am experiencing the wonders of pharmaceuticals." He watched as she looked at the TV  
  
without really seeing it.  
  
"It's very odd..." she continued, "I've been sitting here, looking at these videos  
  
they're showing of Zoey...trying to remember her life. Specific events of her life. I  
  
can't remember much of anything."  
  
"Well, Honey, you're probably in shock, as well as sedated."  
  
"No...it's not that, Leo. I realised that the reason I can't remember is that I wasn't  
  
there for a lot of it. I was less a part of Zoey's everyday life than with the other  
  
girls. I'd just been made Chief of Thoracic Medicine when she was born, I was busy being  
  
a political wife...so she had a full time nanny from the beginning."  
  
"Abbey, don't do this to yourself. She's always known you loved her. She's always  
  
known..."  
  
"That I was only a phone call away. It's true, Leo. Maybe that's why I worked on Jed  
  
to let her go to France for three months. I felt so guilty about not being with her when  
  
she was growing up, and I knew how difficult being the President's daughter was for her.  
  
I wanted to give her the gift of not being *our* daughter for a while. And now she's out  
  
there so alone, and I can't help but feel I'm being punished for..."  
  
"Stop it. Just stop it." He said loudly. He took her by her shoulders and made her look  
  
up at him. "This isn't punishment. We don't know exactly what it is yet, but it's isn't  
  
that." He pulled her over and put his arm around her. She put her head on his shoulder.  
  
Leo smiled. "I remember Jenny telling me once-about a conversation the two of you had  
  
about all of the girls. Elizabeth was the homebody, Ellie was the insecure one...but our  
  
Mallory and your Zoey...they were fighters, right from the start. They plow right into  
  
life, fearless. Zoey always knew you loved her, she was always...is *still* proud of you.  
  
I got that from the horse's mouth."  
  
Abbey was silent for a moment before she spoke. "Jed told me you believe she's still  
  
alive."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Then...from your lips to God's ear, Leo." She began to cry, and he held her tight and  
  
let her.  
  
"God, is there news?" Jed said from the doorway. His face was white.  
  
Abbey held up her hand. "No, Jed. There's no news. I just started leaking again. How is  
  
Annie?'  
  
Jed approached. "Better, I think. Not looking forward to going to school tomorrow..."  
  
"She'll still have her Secret Service detail, won't she?"  
  
"Yes." Leo said.  
  
"No, it's more...Elizabeth told me tonight there are a few students who razz her about  
  
me...She's going to talk to Annie's teacher in the morning..." Jed reached down and  
  
touched his wife's cheek. "Abbey, I need to talk to Leo alone for a while. And you need  
  
to at least try and get some sleep."  
  
"What about you?" she said.  
  
Leo helped her up from the couch. "I'm going to insist he lie down a while once we  
  
finish talking."  
  
"I'll meet you in my study." Jed said as he helped Abbey toward the bed.  
  
"Thank you, Leo." Abbey said.  
  
"Sleep, Abbey."  
  
Jed's private study was also dimly lit by the desk reading lamp. Leo looked out the  
  
window at the grounds. Armed Secret Servicemen, some with dogs, roamed the gardens and  
  
walks. He had lived in the Capitol off and on for many years, but never had he seen it so  
  
brilliantly lit-as if the entire District was under a spotlight, looking for Zoey  
  
Bartlet.  
  
"Well, anyone writing a tome about this Administration just started Volume Two." he  
  
heard Jed say behind him. "So...*is* there any news?"  
  
"Nothing new. President Walken is being briefed by Butterfield, Fitzwallace and McNally.  
  
The Senior Staff is working on the press conference, which we'll set for 6am. We'll all  
  
meet in the Roosevelt Room to go over the joint statements and Q and A's at 4:30."  
  
"Me to?"  
  
"You to. Which is why you *have* to lie down and sleep for a while, Sir."  
  
"What about you?" Jed said, walking toward Leo. "The bags under your eyes are just as  
  
big as mine."  
  
"I'll catch some shut-eye after the press conference." Leo put his hand on Jed's  
  
shoulder. "Let me handle this."  
  
"So, how is the Watergate? I mean, I know you don't spend much time there anymore-but  
  
Abbey and I want to stay in the District..."  
  
"The President asked me to tell you that no one's going to rush anyone anywhere. I'm  
  
going to talk to Ron Butterfield, but I think it's likely that he may have you move to  
  
the Vice President's Residence temporarily. We can cover all this later. Don't..."  
  
"...worry about it." Jed finished for him. He looked in Leo's eyes and then looked  
  
away, out onto the brilliantly lit grounds. "You know what I keep thinking about? A  
  
couple of weeks ago, when those three soldiers were captured in Kundu, and we had the  
  
families waiting in the Oval Office. They kept asking questions...and all we said to  
  
them was 'I can't tell you that'."  
  
"Sir...this is an entirely different..."  
  
"Is it?" Jed turned back toward Leo. "How much are you-or anyone else going to tell me  
  
about what's being done to find Zoey?"  
  
"Everything...possible." Leo said, kindly. "Come sit down with me a minute." The two old  
  
friends sat across from each other. Jed sighed and looked at Leo with a rueful smile.  
  
"Put you behind the eightball again, Leo-aren't you sick of cleaning up after me yet?"  
  
"Don't." Leo said bluntly. "You did exactly what needed to be done, and no one had to  
  
tell you to do it. There's been no time for me to tell you...I've had some proud moments  
  
in your service, but none prouder than the one I witnessed tonight." He took Jed's hand  
  
in both of his. "This is a coda, Jed, only that. For now, be a father, and a husband-let  
  
me take care of the rest."  
  
"O.k." They both got up, and Jed put his arms around Leo and held him tightly. "Find  
  
her." he whispered.  
  
"I'll never stop. You know that." He looked in Jed's face. "Now, please get some rest,  
  
if only for Abbey's sake. And Charlie's. He's dead on his feet, just like you, and if I  
  
tell him you went to bed, he might get a nap in as well."  
  
"O.K."  
  
"I'll go out through the study." Leo said, squeezing Jed's arm one more time as he  
  
opened the door to the bedroom.  
  
Going out into the hall, he talked to Charlie, and ordered him to sleep a while, then  
  
walked back down to the West Wing. There was a fresh pot of coffee brewing in Margaret's  
  
office, and he poured himself a cup before sitting down with the Staff.  
  
"O.K." he said, "Where are we?"  
  
Leo's Office, 4:20am  
  
  
  
"Here's your statement.", she said, standing across from his desk.  
  
"Thank you." Leo replied without looking up. "You can go home now."  
  
"I go home when..."  
  
"Margaret, *Please*..." He looked up at her, taking off his glasses. "Sit down a  
  
minute."  
  
She perched on the chair across from him, determined to stick to her guns. "You might  
  
need me after the press conference..."   
  
"What I'm going to *need* is you - armed with a few more hours sleep than I'm going to  
  
get. So-go home now and come back in at 8am. And if you would, I also need a fresh change  
  
of clothes..."  
  
"I'll stop by the Watergate on my way in. Any preference in suits?"  
  
"Whatever." he said, looking back down at the statement.  
  
"I'm thinking the double-breasted charcoal pinstripe with the port wine power tie."  
  
"Sure." he said, not really listening. Finally, he got up and picked up the papers he  
  
would need at the meeting that awaited him in the Roosevelt Room. "Go." he said as he  
  
headed out the door.  
  
Margaret went back to her desk. She called the OEOB and asked them to send a temp to Mr.  
  
McGarry's office right away. Then she called the White House Operator and asked her to  
  
field calls until the temp arrived. Then she sat at her desk a moment, trying to think of  
  
anything else she shoud do before leaving.  
  
She had sat outside of Leo's office since he was Labor Secretary. She had spent years  
  
juggling his schedule, anticipating his needs. Suddenly-something else occurred to her,  
  
and she reached for the phone.   
  
The Press Briefing Room, 6:15am  
  
Leo stood against the wall with the rest of the Senior Staff, listening to the questions  
  
being posed to both Walken and Bartlet. He had already addressed the press briefly on the  
  
workings of the West Wing under this new President, and was again amazed at the stupidity  
  
of some of the Press Corps members. It was a press conference like no other, and it was  
  
easy to tell which of the reporters had used the early morning hours to research the 25th  
  
amendment, and which had not.   
  
C.J. did him proud, interjecting when needed to redirect questions to the Secret Service  
  
or the Pentagon. Toby and Will had done him proud in the Roosevelt Room as they went over  
  
the language of the statements with both Walken and Bartlet. Josh had done him proud by  
  
simply shutting up in the presense of Walken's staff.  
  
His energy was waning. Perhaps it was because he knew that once the press conference was  
  
over, he could lie down a while. He had spoken to Ron Butterfield, and it had been  
  
established that the Bartlets would be moved into the Vice Presidential Residence the  
  
following day. He and Walkin had gone to the Sit Room for an update just before the  
  
conference. He continued to listen to the questions and the answers, but found he was not  
  
retaining much. But he'd set the VCR in his office before he left, so he could review it  
  
later. Finally, C.J. stepped in and wrapped things up.  
  
Outside the Press Room, he watched as Walken shook Bartlet's hand. "Go rest now, and be  
  
with your wife and your family. I promise, as soon as we know anything, so will you."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. President." Bartlet said. He then pointed to Leo. "Make him get a few  
  
hours of sleep. You need him."  
  
"I was just going to suggest that." Walken said.  
  
"Well, I've tried suggestions," said Jed, "They don't work. In fact, nothing short of an  
  
Executive Order seems to work."  
  
"Done." Walken said. He turned to Leo. "You and I will meet at 9am, baring any news.  
  
Until then, go lie down."  
  
"Yes, Sir." Leo said. He watch Bartlet walk away, heading back toward the Residence. He  
  
wanted to follow him-tell him how well he did at the press conference, but the gesture  
  
might be mis-construed. He would be watched carefully in the days to come, more than  
  
anyone. Every word, every movement, every suggestion. He squared his shoulders as he  
  
headed toward his office.  
  
The White House, 8:15am  
  
Jordan had expected to have difficulty getting into the White House that morning.  
  
Pennsylvaia Avenue was lined with extra security and television vans. Still photographers  
  
moved as close to her car as the Mounted Police would allow-flashing their cameras at the  
  
driver's side window. Even though her role as Special Council to the Chief of Staff gave  
  
her top clearance to enter the building, there were three stops between the gate and the  
  
South Portico, where her credentials were inspected once again. Finally, she was allowed  
  
to park her car and walk into the West Wing.  
  
The halls held their usual beehive of activity, with people walking briskly to and from  
  
offices-but there was a hushed quality to the place-an underlining sense of tension. She  
  
noticed that the doors to all the Senior Staff offices were closed. Reaching Margaret's  
  
door, she looked in and saw an unfamiliar staffer sitting at ther desk. This was no  
  
surprise to Jordan, who had encouraged Margaret to sleep as long as she could-Leo would  
  
need her to be sharp that day.   
  
The woman looked up from the computer terminal. "Hello," said Jordan, "I'm Ms. Kendall.  
  
Mr. McGarry's attorney. Margaret asked me..."  
  
"I know, Ms. Kendall-Margaret told me to expect you. I ordered some coffee and Margaret  
  
said she would bring him something to eat when she came in at 8:30.You can go right in."  
  
The blinds were drawn, but in the shadows, she could make out Leo stretched out on the  
  
couch with his tie and shoes off. She quietly put her things down and hung his suit on  
  
the coat rack. Going over to the couch, she looked down at her lover sleeping, a  
  
washcloth laid over his brow. Her heart went out to him. He had not called her the night  
  
before-he had not had to. She had seen the news reports of Zoey's kidnapping while she  
  
was waiting for him to arrive for a late dinner, and was transfixed over the next few  
  
hours, dreading what might happen next. When it did, when reports came into CNN that the  
  
Speaker of the House had been sent for, she knew. Finally, she had received Margaret's  
  
phone call. It was then she had offered to take on her task of getting Leo a change of  
  
clothes.   
  
In his sleep, Leo's brow was furrowed, the groves of his mouth turned down. Sleep was  
  
bringing him no peace, waking would bring even less-but Margaret had made her promise her  
  
that she would wake him. She perched herself on the edge of the couch and taking the  
  
washcloth off his forehead, she gently stroked his face. His eyes opened and then closed  
  
again, and a small smile crept across his face. "Hello, Councilor.", he said groggily.  
  
"Hello, Chief.", she whispered.   
  
"What time is it?" he yawned.  
  
"Quarter after eight. This is your wake-up call."  
  
"Not that I'm complaining, but I wondered what you were doing here. I thought  
  
Margaret..."  
  
"I spoke to her last night. Your double-breasted charcoal pinstripe was hanging in my  
  
closet and I figured I'd save her the trip-let her sleep in another 15 minutes."  
  
"Hmmm." he said. His eyes remained shut, but his hand came up and touched her face. She  
  
leaned down then and put her head on his chest.  
  
"Poor you..." she said.  
  
"I'll be alright." he said, stroking her hair. "It's The Bartlets' that I'm worried  
  
about."  
  
"How are they?"  
  
"They're out of their minds with fear."  
  
"Who could blame them. I was so proud of him, Leo."  
  
"Me to." He stroked her hair absently. "I think it will be years before his action will  
  
be truly understood. He made a decision without regard for this Administration or the  
  
Democratic Party...and in doing so, he protected this Nation and the World from a  
  
father's snap decision...and a father's wrath."  
  
There was a knock on the door. Jordan answered it while Leo got up from the couch. The  
  
secretary handed her the coffee tray and she set it down on his desk. Leo stretched and  
  
scratched his head. "Lord, I need a shower."  
  
"Have a cup of coffee first," she said, "Then you can go down to the gym - shower and  
  
shave." She handed him the mug.  
  
He smiled at her. "I'm sorry I missed dinner."  
  
She smiled back. "I'm sorry you missed *dessert*."  
  
He looked at his watch. "I have a meeting next door in 40 minutes. I need to check the  
  
night report and meet with the staff before then..."  
  
"O.k. A house don't have to fall on me-I'm going." She picked up her briefcase. He came  
  
over to where she stood. Putting his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck, breathing in  
  
her scent. "I have absolutely no idea what to expect."  
  
"Whatever comes, Leo-you'll know what to do." She kissed him softly, and he returned the  
  
kiss with as much passion as two hours sleep would allow.  
  
"When are you leaving for the conference in England?", he asked.  
  
"Tuesday."  
  
"Your firm is still providing you with security, right?"  
  
"Yes, I have Blotto and Bruce everywhere I go." she sighed.  
  
"I'll try to get away, even for a little while before you go."  
  
"You've got the key, you don't need an invitation. If I feel someone spooning up to me  
  
at three in the morning, I'm going to figure it's you." She touched his face one last  
  
time, and opened the door to the hallway. She walked briskly toward the South Portico,  
  
meeting up with Margaret on her way in, loaded down with Krispy Kremes.  
  
"He's up?" Margaret asked.  
  
"He's up." Jordan replied as she reached for her car keys. She got in the car, and her  
  
hands were trembling so badly that she dropped them twice before she got them into the  
  
ignition. She took a deep breath, and let it out. She steered along the drive toward the  
  
entrance. Waiting to be checked one last time, she glanced back at the White House, at  
  
the place that was Leo's salvation and his cell. She thought about what Leo had said  
  
about Jed Bartlet-she understood it very well. She herself loved a man who served his  
  
country in the only way he knew how-without regard for the sacrifices he-and her-were  
  
forced to accept.  
  
An Epiloge  
  
Leo's Office, 11:54am  
  
He was reading a lengthy memo from the Chairman of the DNC when the guy breezed into his  
  
office through the open hallway door.   
  
"Hi, Leo," he said, flipping through a pile of folders in his arms, "Jack Hallis-I'm  
  
with the President's personal staff."  
  
"Yes?" Leo said, taking off his glasses.  
  
"I was looking through the President's itinerary for the next few days and I noticed  
  
he's scheduled to make a few brief remarks to Members of the VFW who'll be visiting the  
  
White House..."  
  
"I'm sorry, who are you?"  
  
"Jack Hallis" he responded, continuing to search his files. "I'd like to get an idea  
  
when we can expect to see the remarks, in case the President wants to make any changes."  
  
"And who sent you here to inquire about the remarks? The President?"  
  
"Oh-Gosh, No."  
  
"His Press Aide, Mark Becker?"  
  
"No..."   
  
"What *is* your position, Mr. Hallis? I don't recall your name from the list the  
  
President and I discussed."  
  
"I'm Mark Becker's assistant." Under Leo's steely glare, the aide smiled weakly. "One of  
  
them. I was taking innitative. You know...trying to get on top of things."  
  
Leo sat there, silent for a moment. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. "I see. Well,  
  
Mr. Hallis-Mr. Zeigler's office handles that. But, as I'm sure you're aware, there are a  
  
few other things on the President's schedule right now. I'm aware that the itinerarys may  
  
not yet reflect that, but a quick glance at CNN..."  
  
"Yeah." Hallis said. "Sorry, Leo."  
  
"Mr. Hallis, did you by any chance receive a memo this morning? From this office?  
  
Regarding the chain of command in the West Wing?"  
  
"Yeah, I did!" Hallis said brightly, as he began to flip through his papers again. "I've  
  
just been so busy...here it is!" He held it up.  
  
"You haven't read it yet?"  
  
"Well, like I said, Leo...we've *all* been so busy..."  
  
"Let me suggest you read it now. In fact, let me suggest that in the future, *any*  
  
communication from this office-be it memo, e-mail, phone, fax, or *smoke-signal* should  
  
be concidered priority one."  
  
"Sure. Sorry, Leo."  
  
"Let me tell you a few other things that you won't find in the memo, Mr. Hallis. The  
  
West Wing is a place of business. As such, it's customary to *knock* before entering  
  
someone's office, even when the door is open. It is also customary to address someone by  
  
their surnames until invited to do otherwise."  
  
"Yes, Sir." came the weak reply.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"No, Mr. McGarry."  
  
Leo put his glasses back on and picked up the memo he had been reading. "Please close  
  
the door on your way out." He heard the door close quietly, and mumbled to himself,  
  
"Dickhead.", before returning to the somewhat poetic diatribe from the DNC chair. A few  
  
moment's later, he heard a tapping on the door between his and Margaret's office, which  
  
had also been open. "Yes?" he called.  
  
"May I come in, Sir?" Margaret said.  
  
"Sure."   
  
She marched in briskly, and stopped in front of his desk. "Are you sure I'm not  
  
disturbing you, Mr. McGarry?"  
  
"What? No..."  
  
"I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Lyman just called to say his meeting on the Hill  
  
is running late. Would you like me to move back your meeting with him and Mr Zeigler to  
  
1:15?"  
  
It must have been the lack of sleep that had him slow on the uptake. He grinned at her.  
  
"Yes, thank you, Ms. Locke."  
  
"Would you like me to order you some lunch from the Mess, Mr. McGarry?"  
  
"Yes, thank you, Ms. Ryan. I'll have the Corn Beef Plate."  
  
"Very Good, Sir." She executed a perfect military turn and returned to her office.  
  
He shook his head and smiled. Margaret's slightly bent sense of humor had often helped  
  
him in the past, and this was no exception. He knew what would happen next. Margaret  
  
would get the word out, and for the rest of the day, the entire West Wing staff would be  
  
addressing each other formally as Mr. or Ms., with a "by your leave" thrown in here or  
  
there for good measure. It would help eleviate some of the tension, and he knew them  
  
enough to know that it would not go overboard, and would end immediately if there was any  
  
news of the search for Zoey.  
  
He'd had enough of the DNC Memo, and he tossed it on his desk and looked out the window.  
  
All his adult life, he had felt himself pulled in many directions, but never so much as  
  
now. The man who was Bartlets' Cheif of Staff wanted to honor him by staying the course.  
  
The man who was Jed's friend wanted to sit by his side day and night until Zoey was  
  
found. The man who was Mallory's father wanted to never let her out his sight again. The  
  
man who was Jordan's lover wanted to escape all the other selves, wrap her body around  
  
his and sleep.  
  
There was a knock on the door leading to the Oval Office, and Mark Becker entered.  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. McGarry-The President would like to see you." Leo got up, buttoned his  
  
jacket, and went to serve his President.  
  
  
  
The end of the first day of the Walken Administration, 10:30 pm  
  
  
  
Leo had often taken a walk in the Rose Garden late at night, sometimes with Jed, or one  
  
of the senior staff members. They had wrestled with many problems along the fragrant  
  
paths, found solutions, accepted defeats. Sometimes-like tonight- he walked alone. The  
  
two agents assigned to him kept a respectful distance as he roamed.   
  
It had been a day unlike any other. The West Wing Staff monitored the stock market, the  
  
activities of the Congress and Senate, the reactions from the world media. C.J. held  
  
press briefings hourly, mostly to corect mis-information that was being presented as  
  
fact. Leo accompanied Walken from meeting to meeting, silently gauging the President's  
  
reactions, quietly recognising how to deal with him. The important business of assuring  
  
the nation and the world that the United States had not been fractured by the events of  
  
the last 24 hours had begun.  
  
For Leo, it was a day filled with difficult meetings, and difficult moments. The worst  
  
of which caught him completely by surprise.  
  
Leo McGarry's office, 7:35pm  
  
Ron Butterfield sat across from him as they finalised the heightened security measures,  
  
not only for the White House, but governmental personel as well. Both the Congressional  
  
and Senate Security Forces were being aided by the District Police. Washington had the  
  
feeling of an armed camp.   
  
"Have you been able to determine anything about what we spoke about earlier?" Leo asked  
  
finally.  
  
"I had the matter researched." Ron replied. "Although Dr. Kendall serves as Special  
  
Council to this office, she does not qualify for Secret Service protection. She is in  
  
private practice, and represents a number of clients. What it comes down to, Leo- is that  
  
The Chief of Staff is her client, but she is not a government employee."  
  
Leo looked away. "You've seen the hate mail, Ron-the *death* threats coming to *this*  
  
office, specifically mentioning her."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry, Leo-it's a Catch 22."  
  
"Alright, then. What about the private security firm that her firm hired to guard her?"  
  
"They're first rate. Most of their clients are Fortune 500 higher-ups. The two men  
  
assigned to her have excellent backrounds. One of them is a former F.B.I. agent."  
  
"Former? What-he couldn't cut the mustard there?"  
  
"No-there's just a lot more money in the private sector."  
  
Leo leaned back in his chair and shook his head. "When did it become like this, Ron?  
  
When did we become a world that answers dissension through the barrel of a gun?"  
  
"When Martin and Bobby were murdered." Ron said quietly. The sat in silence a moment  
  
before Ron closed his folder and looked frankly at Leo. "There's one more security matter  
  
that the Presidetn asked me to discuss with you."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"You. The President feels-and I have to agree-that given your high-profile, you are the  
  
most likely and the most *accessable* target for a further terrorist attack."  
  
"Ron, my security detail has already been quadrupled..."  
  
"Leo, given the events of last night, given who is laying claim to it, given Qumar-it's  
  
not enough. When I was talking about this to the President, he referred to you as 'The  
  
Poster Boy for Godless Infidels'. And he wasn't being funny."  
  
"So, what do you suggest?"  
  
"The way the President and I see it, Leo-the solution isn't additional security. The  
  
solution is location."  
  
"Location? I'm not sure what you mean."  
  
"Until we reach some resolution to the present crisis..." Ron took a deep breath. "The  
  
President would like yo to move into one of the guest rooms at the Residence."  
  
"Absolutely NOT." Leo said bluntly.  
  
Ron raised his hand. "Hear me out, Leo. I'm speaking to you not just as the head of the  
  
White House Security Detail, but I hope as a friend." Leo was silent. Ron continued.  
  
"Think beyond the fact that you would be safer there than anywhere else. We don't know  
  
what is going to happen from minute to minute, let alone day to day. At any time there  
  
maybe a development that changes the focus of the investigation or begins a new one. The  
  
President will need you close at hand. Not 15 minutes away at the Watergate,  
  
or...elsewhere. As a friend-who knows how you respond to crisis-you'd be more likely to  
  
concider sleeping if you knew there was a bed 2 minutes away rather than 15." Ron stood  
  
up. "I have to get to a meeting. Think it over, please."  
  
"Alright, I'll do it."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Just...not tonight. Tomorrow."  
  
"Leo..."  
  
"I'll take the Marx Brothers in their black SUV with me, but tonight...I need to be  
  
somewhere."  
  
"Alright. I'll talk to Eddie. He'll take care of it. Let him know later when you'll be  
  
leaving."  
  
"I will. Ron?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What about Zoey's detail?"  
  
"They're being questioned. They'll be questioned again. And again. Then they'll be  
  
re-assigned."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I hand-picked the detail, Leo-it was my call." Ron turned away and walked out into the  
  
hall.  
  
Leo was left with the irony, and the anger of knowing that to best protect himself-he  
  
would have to move into the White House on the very day his beloved friend moved out.  
  
  
  
The Rose Garden, 10:40pm  
  
From his position, Leo could see the lights on the second floor of the Residence, where  
  
staff members were preparing for the Bartlets' move to the Vice-Presidential Residence  
  
the following day.   
  
The Residence had been his last stop of the day, a painful one. Waken had asked him to  
  
personally keep Jed and Abbey updated on the search and rescue efforts, and nearly 24  
  
hours later-with untold manhours put into the task, Zoey Bartlet's location was still  
  
unknown-her abductors still not identified. He came to them as liason, and remained  
  
afterward as friend, remembering a time long ago when they had done the same for  
  
him-under far different circumstances. Finally, convincing them to turn in for the night,  
  
he had found himself here in the Rose Garden, cell phone in hand.  
  
  
  
"Hello, Baby."  
  
"Hi, Daddy, how are you?"  
  
"I'm fine. How are you?"  
  
"Feeling a bit like Madonna at the moment. Do you *really* think this is necessary?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"Dad, I'm a student, working on my Doctorate-hardly anyone here knows that I'm your  
  
daughter."  
  
"A lot of people *do* know it, Mallory-those are the one's I'm worried about. So...  
  
what's he like?'  
  
"Remember the liquid metal guy in Terminator 2? He's like that."  
  
"Good."  
  
"And the other guy...the night shift guy? He's more like that guy from the Godfather-the  
  
one that ended up sleeping with the fishes."  
  
"Even better." He chuckled. "Look, Baby-I know how you feel about having bodyguards, but  
  
put up with it, will you? Even if it's just to grant your old Dad some piece of mind."  
  
"Okay, Daddy."  
  
"That's my Girl."  
  
"Dad...will you tell the Bartlets that I'm thinking of them? Praying for them, and for  
  
Zoey?"  
  
"I will, Honey." There was a long pause before she spoke again.  
  
"I feel so bad..."  
  
"Why, Honey?"  
  
"Missing the Commencment. I wanted to be there, but I had these papers to finish."  
  
"Zoey knew that, Mallory, she understood."  
  
"But if I'd *been* there, I would have been out at the club with her...I might have  
  
*seen* something-been able to stop..."  
  
"Don't" he said, abruptly. "You don't know anything of the sort. Somebody *did* try to  
  
stop it, Mal-and they're dead now." He put his hand to his forehead, trying to get his  
  
voice back in control. That was a thought he would just as soon keep at bay. "Mal?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy?"  
  
"When will you be back?"  
  
"I'll be finished next week-I should be home by Sunday."  
  
"Are you going to stay with Mom?"  
  
"No. Jane is looking for a roommate for the summer, I thought I'd stay with her."  
  
"Okay. Look, call me as soon as you get in and we'll have dinner."  
  
"I will."  
  
"And call me before then, even."  
  
"I will."  
  
"You know what? Call me every day. Okay?"  
  
"I will, Daddy-Please take care of yourself. I'm worried about you."  
  
"I'm fine, Baby." he said. "I love you."  
  
"I love you to, Daddy-so much."  
  
After hanging up, Leo had continued to walk, trying to get his fear under control. When  
  
news of Zoey's abduction had reached him, his first thought after informing the President  
  
was of Mallory. He had had Margaret locate her, tell her to stay where she was, and then  
  
arranged for private bodyguards to watch her 24/7. Like Jed, he would not have been able  
  
to function unless he knew she was safe.  
  
His cell phone rang. This was his encrypted phone, and only a few people had the number.  
  
He looked at the display-and was surprised to see who it was calling him. Or maybe...not  
  
so much.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Hello, Leo. How are you?"  
  
"I'm Okay." Even though the phone was encrypted, it was his habit not to use names on  
  
the phone. Especially phone calls such as this. "I'm sorry-I've been meaning to call  
  
you..."  
  
"It's understandable, Leo. You've been busy. Especially now. How are they?"  
  
"As you'd expect.   
  
"I talked to him earlier, but I thought I'd get your read..."  
  
"Yeah, it's o.k."  
  
"I know you can't tell me anything...I just wish that there was something I could do."  
  
"I know. How are things for you-on the home front?"  
  
"She and the kids are down at our summer place. We are in the process  
  
of...negotiating."  
  
"Well, negotiating...that's better than...the other thing."  
  
"Yes." There was silent on the end of the line for a long moment.  
  
"You still there?"  
  
"Yes. I was trying to think of how to say this. I can't help but thinking...and I'm not  
  
talking about my own agenda here-but if the two events had been reversed, your life would  
  
have been a whole lot easier now."  
  
"We don't want to go down that road, John." he said, not realising he had let the name  
  
slip out.  
  
"Yeah, who am I kidding-it would have been worse. Life is so damned...ironic."  
  
"No kidding."  
  
"Anyway, I wasn't calling you as a fellow Democrat, or a politician in disgrace. I'm  
  
calling you as a fellow traveler. It's Thursday night, Leo. It's a quarter to eleven,  
  
Washington time. I think what you need to unwind is a nice friendly... poker game."  
  
Leo didn't respond.  
  
"I turned the game over to you when I left, Leo and everyone knows it. It's your game  
  
now."  
  
"I can't..."  
  
"Don't start that crap with me, Leo-you tried it once before when Elliot opened his  
  
mouth and stuck his size ten in it about you being "outed". You tried to back out. You  
  
tried to call it a luxury. Do you remember my response?"  
  
"Vividly." Leo said, remembering that particular verbal ass-kicking.  
  
"Everything is secondary, Leo." said a man alone in a mansion in Texas. "Get your ass up  
  
the pass."  
  
"Alright."  
  
There was nothing more to say but goodbye. Leo walked back to his office, thinking of a  
  
man with whom he had shared triumphs and betrayels. Who, in the midst of his grief and  
  
shame, reached out to him in comradeship.  
  
Margaret looked up as he entered her office. "I'm going over to the OEOB for an hour..."  
  
"Your poker game?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
"I'll have my cell."  
  
"O.K."  
  
"You can go home."  
  
"I have some stuff to do. I'll wait until you get back."  
  
"Ok ." he said. He started to leave, and then turned back. "I'm not always good at  
  
saying the important things, especially to the people I rely on the most..."  
  
"You do alright by me." she said simply. "Hurry, or you'll be late."  
  
OEOB, 11:00pm  
  
It had been a day filled with the sound of conversations dying as he entered a room.  
  
Entering the familiar basement room was no different. A group of people were seated  
  
around a table, and they waited while he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down.   
  
Leo looked around. "'Somebody bum me a smoke, will you?"  
  
A pack was slid across the table to him. He lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag on it.  
  
"There's some art for the Tobacco Lobby." someone said. A murmur of laughter went around  
  
the table.  
  
Leo smiled at his fellow travelers. ""Let's get started." he said, "I'm Leo. I'm an  
  
alcoholic and a drug addict."  
  
"Hello, Leo." his fellow travelers replied.  
  
  
  
A Journey's End, 1:15am  
  
The black SUV was already in position when Leo's agent turned the towncar onto the  
  
cul-de-sac. Although the light above the front door was lit, the rest of the house was  
  
dark. He had often arrived like this, sure of his welcome. Eddie stood by while he  
  
unlocked the door and reset the alarm system. But unlike other nights, the towncar would  
  
remain where it was, blocking the house while the SUV guarded the entrance to the street.  
  
He set his briefcase on the hall table. He shucked off his topcoat and draped it over  
  
the stairrail. He loosened his tie as he climbed the stairs, and he had many times  
  
before. Cleo greeted him at the top of the stairs, meowing and rubbing against his leg as  
  
he walked into the bedroom.  
  
In the glow of the streetlight, he could see Jordan lying curled up on her side, one arm  
  
wrapped around the pillow that was his. He looked at her while he undressed, and then sat  
  
on the edge of the bed. Ending their day as she had begun it, he touched her face.  
  
Another Coda, 1:20am  
  
She had not expected to see him that night. Waking to his touch, smiling up into his  
  
face half hidden in shadow, she drew back the blankets and drew him in.  
  
In his body, in his touch, in his mouth-she had learned to read the language of his  
  
needs and his gifts. Sometimes gentle, sometimes playful, sometimes lustful-she followed  
  
his lead, and in doing so spurred him on to greater passions. Tonight she found he was  
  
not so easily read.  
  
He insinuated his body around hers-his arms holding her close, their legs entwined. His  
  
mouth tasted hers, then moved on to explore places well known, well loved. She gasped as  
  
he mounted her, and reached down to grip him even closer. But as her passion rose to met  
  
his, so did some terrible fear she could not lay name to. It was only when his own  
  
passion forced a low groan out of him that she felt the sadness he had been hiding. She  
  
clung to him, stroking him as he began to thrust toward their destination. She cried out  
  
in completion, as if some of his pain had been transferred in their coupling. Lying back  
  
now, breathing in concert, Jordan opened her thoughts to Leo's touch, and learned the  
  
source of his sadness. For his hands continued to move slowly across her skin, as if  
  
he had never felt it before-or never would again.  
  
She knew then, without being told-but he told her anyway. Their well loved life-filled  
  
with late and last minute dinners, long phone calls, funny and sometimes profane e-mails,  
  
occasional weekends away from their mutual workaholic ways-was over. Not for always, but  
  
for a time that could not be foreseen. They held each other, they whispered things that  
  
were already known. Finally, wearily, they slept.  
  
On this dark Washington night, fearful lovers clung to each other, and to hope. Leo and  
  
Jordan, Jed and Abbey, Toby and Andi-each with different fears and with different hopes,  
  
but all united by the will to make their hopes reality.   
  
The Residence, 5:35am  
  
"I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled  
  
me." Abraham Lincoln, 1864"  
  
Lincoln's words had occurred to him when Eddie had picked him up to take him to the  
  
White House at 5am. An agent had been sent to the Watergate to pack what he would need,  
  
and he loaded everything into the trunk of the towncar. Leo began the business of his  
  
day in the back seat. He read the night report that Eddie had delivered. He called  
  
Butterfield. He called Fitz. The light drizzle that was falling reflected his mood. He  
  
shook his head at the news vans lined up on Pennsylvania Avenue. Their cameras stood on  
  
tripods-covered in plastic-pointed toward the White House. It reminded him of a Don  
  
Henley song that Mallory had played for him after the disclosure of his addictions:  
  
"I make my living on the Evening News, Just give me something-something I can use.  
  
People love it when you lose-give us Dirty Laundry.  
  
"Kick 'em when they're up-Kick 'em when they're down.  
  
"Kick 'em when they're sick-Kick 'em all around..."  
  
The gates opened to let the towncar in, and cameras flashed. Leo knew that they would be  
  
unable to see him through the smoked glass, so he endulged himself with the childish act  
  
of flipping them the bird. With both hands. Coming to a stop at the South Portico, Eddie  
  
popped the trunk and a porter stepped forward and began to load his things onto a  
  
trolley.  
  
"Put this aside for now." Leo told him. "You can take it up to the Residence later."  
  
The young porter looked uncomfortable. "Mr. Willaims told me to bring it up right away,  
  
Mr. McGarry."  
  
"I'll speak to Mr. Williams". Leo said bluntly, "For now, stow it out of sight." He  
  
walked in and headed for the Residence.  
  
Elliot Williams, tall and impeccably dressed as always, was giving quiet orders to a  
  
member of his staff when Leo stepped off the elevator. Seeing Leo approaching, he  
  
extended his hand.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. McGarry."  
  
"Mr. Williams." Leo said, taking it. "A busy morning for you, I'm sure."  
  
"Somewhat."  
  
"Are the...Bartlets up?"  
  
"Yes, Sir. Breakfast was delivered a few minutes ago."  
  
"Good. Mr. Williams, I left my bags at the South Entrance."  
  
Williams understood immediately. "I'll have a porter bring it up later, Sir."  
  
"Thank You. Where have you put me?" Williams glanced down at his clipboard.  
  
"I have you in the Lincoln Bedroom, Sir."  
  
Leo froze. "Oh, no...really-somewhere else will be fine."  
  
"It was Mr. Butterfield's suggestion, Mr. McGarry. It offers you the quickest access to  
  
the West Wing Offices..."  
  
"If there's anywhere else, I'd really prefer...anywhere else."  
  
Williams glanced down at his clipboard. "I'm afraid, for the moment-all available rooms  
  
in the residence have been assigned."  
  
"All of them? There are-what? *How* many guest rooms here?"  
  
"The problem is...what's *available*, Sir. We had a number of rooms that sustained water  
  
damage from a broken pipe during the winter. They are in the process of being  
  
refurbished."  
  
"Oh." Leo said, looking down.  
  
"I can see if I can change..."  
  
"No, it's alright. Don't worry about it."   
  
"Very good, Sir."  
  
Leo turned and headed down the corridor toward the Bartlet's bedroom. He met up with  
  
Charlie coming out of the room. "How are you this morning?" he asked the young man, "Get  
  
any sleep?"  
  
"As much as you did. Did you find out anything about...what we talked about?"  
  
"Yes." Leo answered. "You're going to take a leave of absense from the White House  
  
payroll. There is going to be a budget for the Bartlet staff, but as yet no one knows  
  
what it is or where it comes from."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"You will when the rent comes due. Someone down at OEOB is working on it, and it will be  
  
retroactive- but for the meantime, your boss will take care of it."  
  
"O.K."  
  
"Speaking of your boss...is he up for company?"  
  
"For you, he is."  
  
"Personnel is putting the paperwork together for your L.O.A. Go down there now and sign  
  
them." Leo turned and knocked on the door to the bedroom.   
  
"Come in. " Abbey said. She was standing at the bureau with one of her aides, emptying  
  
drawers. "Good Morning, Leo." she said, walking toward him.  
  
"Hello, Abbey." He said, hugging her.  
  
"I'm almost done here." she sighed.  
  
"There's no hurry. Listen, I spoke to the detail. You'll leave from the West  
  
Entrance-the press will be kept away-and the motorcade will go directly into the parking  
  
garage at the Vice President's residence so it will be private."  
  
"Good." She nodded at her aide, who then left silently. "I was amazed that the  
  
newspapers were'nt plastered with pictures of me coming into the pressroom. I haven't  
  
seen any on CNN."  
  
"That's because you have a good Press Secretary. She spoke to the cameramen in the Press  
  
Room, and got them to understand that they need to get past their instincts, and just be  
  
human beings."   
  
Abbey nodded. "Thank her for me." She cl;osed an empty drawer. "Ron was here a little  
  
while ago. There's been no other communications"  
  
"I know. I spoke to him on the way in. How are you holding up?"  
  
"Better-he is to. I convinced him to join me in a Trazadone last night, so we both got  
  
some sleep. How about you?"  
  
"I snagged a few hours."  
  
"I got the loveliest note from Mrs. Walken this morning."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"Yes...Mallory called me to."  
  
"She told me that she wanted to." Leo looked around the room.  
  
"He's in his office." Abbey said, knowing that Leo was pressed for time.  
  
"Thank you." he said. He walked up to her and gently kissed her cheek. "I don't know how  
  
much I'll be able to get over there, but I'm going to be with you. You know that."  
  
"Go on, now." she said, her voice breaking. "He's been waiting for you."  
  
Jed's voice boomed "Come in!" when Leo knocked on the door. He was standing at the desk  
  
in his private office, putting files in his briefcase. Deborah was loading several  
  
cardboard file boxes. The ever-present television, although muted, was tuned to CNN. Jed  
  
looked up and took off his glasses. "These boxes go into locked storage at the OEOB. Ms.  
  
Fiderer will keep the key on a chain around her neck. The rest of these are going with  
  
me."  
  
"You don't have to account for your personal papers, Sir."  
  
"Thank God for that. I found a past due notice on a bill in here." He looked at Debbie  
  
and nodded.  
  
"I'll go see about getting someone in to handle these." she said, and left the room.  
  
Bartlet looked at Leo. "You've talked to Ron?"  
  
"Yes. He isn't holding anything back from you."  
  
"No word yet on the license plate?"  
  
"It was stolen. We're still trying to determine when."  
  
"I was proud of the staff yesterday-I didn't get a chance to tell them."  
  
"I will."   
  
"What about Charlie?"  
  
"Officially, he's taking a leave of absense. He will retain the job as your bodyman, but  
  
until it's determined where his salary is drawn from-take out your checkbook."  
  
"I will." Jed said, forcefully. "And I intend to pay him a hell of a lot more that he's  
  
been making so far."  
  
"Don't do that." Leo said softly.  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"Because he'll know you're doing it because he loves Zoey."  
  
Jed was silent, knowing it was true. Finally, he came around from behind the desk. He  
  
stood close by Leo and leaned in.  
  
"I talked to our friend last night."  
  
"How is Stanley?"  
  
"He's coming out this evening to visit."  
  
"I'm glad. For you and for Abbey."  
  
"Elizabeth and Annie are coming to stay with us for a few days. Ellie wants to, but  
  
she's still got a few weeks at John's Hopkins."  
  
"May I make a suggestion then?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"You'll hear everything of worth, everything that's *fact* before the press does-I  
  
promise you that much. So shut off CNN. Be with your family. Put an movie in the DVD  
  
player and curl up on the couch together."  
  
"That's a good idea." Bartlet said. He smiled. "You know, Annie loves Monty Python's  
  
Flying Circus. Can't get enough of them. So, last Christmas I gave her a boxed set of all  
  
the Marx Brothers movies - the *good* ones anyway."  
  
"Nice to know she's being raised on the classics." Leo said smiling. Then he looked  
  
down. He had to say it now, there was no more time left.  
  
"What is it?" Jed asked, sensing the change.  
  
"Sir...I wanted to tell you this before you left. Ron spoke to me last night about  
  
heightening my security."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that. You've pissed off a lot of people in your career, Leo-bit of a  
  
surprise for such a likeable guy."  
  
"For security's sake," Leo said quickly, "both Ron and President Walken felt that I  
  
should move into the Residence for the time being."  
  
"I'm glad to hear that. Seriously, Leo-you're a major target. And it's not as if you  
  
haven't sacked out in one of the guest rooms overnight during a crisis."  
  
"This wasn't my decision. It was Ron's and the President's."  
  
Bartlet stopped and looked questioningly into his friends' face. "Wait...do you think it  
  
matters to me that you'll be here and I won't? Leo, do you think I give a shit?" He shook  
  
his head and stretched out his arms. "This is just a building, Leo-compared to the safety  
  
of the people I love it represents nothing to me. In the last 24 hours I've thought of  
  
nothing else but the saftey of everyone around me. I'm worried about the safety of the  
  
rest of my family, the safety of the staff, the safety of the Congress and the Senate,  
  
and you know how much *that* blows my mind. I'm even worried about the safety of my  
  
doctorate advisor in Paris and I'm pretty sure he's been *dead* for years!" He walked  
  
over and put his hand on Leo's shoulder. "If I can lay my head on John Hoynes's pillow  
  
knowing you are somewhere safe-protected...what the hell else matters?"  
  
"Thank you, Sir." Leo said quietly.  
  
"Just don't steal the towels."  
  
"O.K." The two men smiled at each other. Bartlet turned and walked back to his desk.  
  
"So, where did Elliot put you?"  
  
"The Lincoln Bedroom." Bartlet glanced back at Leo a moment then looked back at his  
  
briefcase.  
  
"Ouch." he said finally. "Well, maybe Abe will show up. If he does, ask him for some  
  
tips."  
  
"I will."   
  
"You got your toolbox with you?" Bartlet asked with his back turned.  
  
Leo was surprised. But then-not so much. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Good." Bartlet shifted uncomfortably. "I need one more favor from you." he said.  
  
"Yes, Sir?"  
  
"Deal with her." he said.  
  
Leo knew what he meant, he needed no further explaination. "I will."  
  
"She'll give me an argument, and I'm just not up for it."  
  
"Don't worry about it." Leo started for the door then turned back. "I may not be in  
  
contact as much as I'd like."  
  
"I know-you have to watch yourself. It's alright, Leo. Go do a job. If Charlie's out  
  
there, will you please send him in?'"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
Debbie and Charlie stood in the corridor, talking. They looked up as Leo came out of the  
  
study, and Leo nodded at Charlie and tipped his head toward the office door. Charlie  
  
headed toward the door, Debbie right behind him. Leo stopped her, and looked at his  
  
watch.  
  
"It's getting close to 6am." He said, "You're needed in The West Wing."  
  
"I thought I'd go over and get them settled..."  
  
"They have personal staff for that. And Charlie's going with them."  
  
"That's been settled?"  
  
"Yes. He's taking an LOA from here, and going on a different payroll."  
  
Deborah smiled. "Any chance I could wrangle the same deal?"  
  
"You're needed here." Leo said bluntly.  
  
"I could take a personal day. Nancy can handle anything..."  
  
"No, she can't. You're the only one who knows the Office ins and outs." Leo looked  
  
around at the porters and staff that were now moving trolleys of suitcases toward the  
  
elevator. He took Debbie's arm and moved to the side where they would not be heard. "You  
  
want to help him?" he said gently, "Do what he asks you to do. Be where he needs you to  
  
be."  
  
She nodded. She looked at the closed study door for a moment and then back at Leo.  
  
"I didn't expect this, you know." she said. "You've all known him for years-I've only  
  
been here eight months. I'm not that easily impressed. And I'm *not* prone to idolatry.  
  
So I didn't expect to feel this way."  
  
"I know." he said smiling. "It happened that way with me, to." Leo took in a deep breath  
  
and let it out. "Come on-time's a wastin'. Let's get to work." As he took her arm and  
  
headed down the corridor toward The West Wing, Lincoln's words rose up again.  
  
"Let us strive to finish the work we are in...", Abraham Lincoln, 1865  
  
The Oval Office, 11am  
  
  
  
"I am rather inclined to silence, and whether that is wise or not, it is at least more  
  
unusual nowadays to find a man who can hold his tongue than to find one who cannot."  
  
Abraham Lincoln, 1861  
  
He was barely into his teens when he discovered Lincoln's words. He read everything he  
  
could find on the man, so it wasn't surprising to Leo that phrases kept popping into his  
  
head as his day continued. In the Oval, and in the Sit Room, he sat in on briefings with  
  
Walken, and silently let others present the facts. He trusted Fitz and Nancy and Ron. He  
  
knew that they understood the position he was in. For unfamiliar faces were roaming the  
  
halls and entrenched in the Oval Office.  
  
There had already been an incident earlier that morning, where one of Walken's aides  
  
wished to remain in the room during Fitz's first security briefing. Knowing the  
  
difficulty it would present to Leo, it was Fitz who had spoken up and told the aide that  
  
he did not possess the proper clearance, and would have to leave.  
  
When Walken requested it, Leo would offer his opinion or advice. For all his bluster on  
  
the night he took the oath, Walken knew that he needed Leo. He listened with respect, and  
  
did not react impulsively.  
  
The two men recognised that as age old adversaries, they had been thrown into a  
  
situation where their conduct would be judged by history, and acted accordingly.  
  
Leo's Office, 8pm  
  
Even with the scope of the West Wing's goals dialed back before the transition of power,  
  
the business of government went on. Issues, both foreign and domestic, still required  
  
attention. Still called for action and reaction. Leo sat back in his chair, absently  
  
chewing on a sandwich that Margaret had put in front of him as he listened to his staff  
  
wind up the day. He had been proud of them all. In statements written for Walken, Toby  
  
and Will had adapted to his style and pattern of speech. C.J. held the Press Corps in the  
  
grip of a lionness. Josh had delivered as well-especially since Walken had made it clear  
  
that when it came to advisors, he prefer to meet with Leo alone. Josh adapted to  
  
collecting information, consulting with Leo before and after meetings, and accepting the  
  
appearance of the new kids on the block.  
  
The discussion had wound down, and Toby was passing around the latest pictures of Huck  
  
and Molly. "The previous batch are from this morning" he said, "I took these at lunch."  
  
"It's amazing how they've grown." C.J. said.  
  
"When's Andi going home?" Josh asked.  
  
"Tomorrow morning. The nanny we had hired isn't going to be available for another ten  
  
days-we didn't think we were going to need her until then, so we interviewed a few of  
  
them at the hospital today."  
  
"Toby Ziegler interviews a nanny." said Josh, "Now that I would have liked to have  
  
seen."  
  
"The McCarthy Hearings would pale by comparison." Leo said grinning.  
  
"You should have seen one of these women." Toby grumbled. "Dirt under her  
  
fingernails...I wouldn't let her walk my dog."  
  
"So," said Leo, "Anything else?" He couldn't help but notice that the rest of the staff  
  
looked over at Josh. "Josh? You got something you want to bring up?"  
  
"I do." he said, avoiding Leo's eyes. "But I want you to hear me out all the way to the  
  
end."  
  
"O.K."  
  
"I'm concerned about...them moving you into the Residence. The reason they moved you  
  
into the Residence."  
  
"I explained that to all of you."  
  
"Yes, and those were valid reasons. But I can't help thinking that there's more behind  
  
it." He stopped, and silence reigned.  
  
"Go on." Leo said.  
  
"We discussed President Bartlet's decision. We've all agreed that it was the right thing  
  
to do. But sooner or later, and we all hope it's sooner...the reason for the decision  
  
will be...resolved. When it comes time for him to reclaim his Presidency, I don't think  
  
it's going to happen without a fight. He's going to need you, Leo. And with you here at  
  
the Residence-they can monitor you. They can make things difficult."  
  
"I'm not under house arrest, Josh-I don't have a bracelet on my ankle."  
  
"Still, Leo..." he stood up and began to walk around the room restlessly. "Look at the  
  
history of the Republicans attitude toward you. Twice they tried to take you down.  
  
Because they know that the President relies on you, and they hoped that if they could get  
  
you out, it would weaken him."  
  
"Which we all know is a load of crap. And those were two individuals, Dr. Stranglove-not  
  
the whole Republican Party."  
  
"You don't think the Party *sanctioned* their actions?"  
  
"I know that in at least one of those incidents, the Party did not."  
  
"Well, then look at the history of *one* Republican's attitude toward you." Josh said.  
  
He looked toward the door to the Oval Office and lowered his voice. "Do you want me to  
  
pull up the remarks made by Congressman Walken?"  
  
"President Walken." Leo said evenly.  
  
Josh stood there, stunned. Then he raised his hand. "I'm sorry. President Walken. I  
  
meant...he was a Congressman when he said..."  
  
"Say it again."  
  
Josh looked at Leo. "President Walken."  
  
Margaret?" Leo called. She appeared in the office. "Say it again.", he said to Josh.  
  
Josh held his gaze. "President Walken."  
  
Leo looked around the room. "All of you."  
  
"President Walken." they all replied. Margaret's delivery was strong and clear. It was  
  
obvious that this drill was not new to her. He nodded at her and she went back into her  
  
office and closed the door behind her.  
  
Leo picked up his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. "In the course of the rest of  
  
the day, and in the days to follow-when you speak of him, to staff or whomever- I want  
  
you all to make a point of referring to him *not* as the President, but as President  
  
Walken. Say it to yourself from time to time as well. It helps if you say it out loud.  
  
About this other thing, Josh..." He took a sip of coffee and looked at Toby. "What do you  
  
think?"  
  
Toby looked up at Josh, and then at Leo. "I think...Dr. Stranglove was a very good  
  
movie." he said quietly.  
  
"C.J.?" Leo asked, moving on.  
  
C.J. looked at Toby. "I've never understood-was that a farce or a satire?" Josh winced.   
  
"Will?"  
  
Will had been leaning back againest the outer office door, arms folded, quietly  
  
observing. "I was weaned on diplomacy." he said after a moment. "And poker. And believing  
  
you hope for the best and prepare for the worst. So I say, Leo-what do *you* think?"  
  
Leo sighed. "I think...'a house divided onto itself can not stand.'" The staff looked up  
  
at the familiar quotation, and all of them nodded. Even Josh.   
  
"Anything else?" Leo said. Everyone shook their heads. "O.K. Get back to work. Josh,  
  
stay a moment will you?'  
  
Josh had started to rise, but sat down again, glumly resting his chin on his fist. The  
  
outer door closed behind the rest of the staff. Leo took another sip of coffee, regarding  
  
his assistant.  
  
"I'm sorry, Leo." Josh said, "I had to say it."  
  
"It's alright, Josh." Leo said, smiling at his assistant, "You miss Sam."  
  
Josh looked up, surprised."What? What has that got to do with anything?"  
  
"You always had that ying and yang thing going for you. Sam had that idealism that  
  
bordered on naivte. You...you've always had more political savvy with a good heaping  
  
spoonful of paranoia. Between you, you kept each other from going off your respective  
  
cliffs. It's that way with me and...you know. You like Toby and C.J. and Will, you  
  
respect them-but it's not the same. So you miss Sam."  
  
"He made the right decision." Josh said.  
  
"Absolutely. He got hammered out there, but people took notice of him. The DNC took  
  
notice. It's time he looked to his future. And he can't do that here. A couple of years  
  
from now, he'll be back on the ballot somewhere. Four years from now...he's going to need  
  
a guy to run his staff. 15 years from now...who knows?"  
  
"So, what's your point, Leo?"  
  
"My point is this-what you do now determines what you'll be able to do then. I told you  
  
this once before. A long time ago."  
  
Josh looked up, not comprehending. Then the light bulb went off, and he smiled ruefully.  
  
"Get to work, Josh." Leo said.  
  
Josh got up and opened the door. "You know, I did learn something - the last time you  
  
told me that."  
  
"You did? What was that?"  
  
"Well," Josh said as he walked ot the door. "I haven't decked anyone since then."  
  
Leo grinned. "Keep it up, will yah?" he said at the closing door. He shook his head, and  
  
remembered that day, that talk, that young man of twenty years before.  
  
Leo's Office at The Firm of McGarry, Shiff and Whitman, Chicago 1982  
  
"Whenever I hear any one argueing for slavery I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on  
  
them personally." Abraham Lincoln, 1865  
  
He was reading over a brief that early Saturday morning when the intercom buzzed. "Yes?"  
  
"Mr. McGarry, there's a Noah Lyman asking to speak to you."  
  
Leo grinned. "Put him through." he picked up the phone. "Noah! Hey, this is a nice  
  
surprise."  
  
"Well, I'll give you that it's a surprise, but I'm not so sure how nice it's going to  
  
be."  
  
"Why? What's up?"  
  
"Leo, I need a big favor. It's about Josh."  
  
"Is he alright?"  
  
"He's not hurt...he's been in your fair city this summer, doing an internship at the  
  
Department of Justice. Doing quite well, actually. But today...he called to tell me he  
  
got arrested at a rally."  
  
"A rally? Well, that's not too bad-the apple doesn't fall to far from the tree there.  
  
What was he protesting?"  
  
"The *rally*." Noah sighed. "The Amerian Nazi Party were out somewhere with their  
  
banners and their bullhorns and my offspring chose to kick things up a notch. I spoke to  
  
the police and there are a number of charges..."  
  
Leo dropped the brief on the desk and picked up a legal pad and a pen. "Tell me." he  
  
said.  
  
An hour later, Leo stood at the desk at the Central Station lock-up. He could see Josh  
  
Lyman through the glass as he was brought to the desk to be processed out. He had not  
  
seen him since he graduated from high school. The neat prep-school hair was now around  
  
his collar. He wore jeans and a pullover, and a look of bemused distain as he looked over  
  
his belongings. He made a point of putting his belt back on before he signed the  
  
paperwork. Leo could feel his annoyance growing, and held it in check. When the lock-up  
  
door opened and Josh came face to face with Leo, the smile faded.  
  
"Mr. McGarry, Hi...my Dad called you?"  
  
"No, I learned it by osmosis, Josh-how the heck are you?"  
  
"I'm O.K...thanks for coming down here." Leo could see that one eye was swollen and  
  
begining to blacken.  
  
"Should we get that looked at?"  
  
Josh touched his face. "No, it's O.K." The grin returned. "You should see the other  
  
guy."  
  
"Yeah." Leo said, not amused. "Come'on. Let's get out of here. I'll buy you a burger."  
  
"I'm really not hungry..."  
  
"Well, I am-you took me away from my lunch so you'll sit and watch me eat. We need to  
  
talk."  
  
They settled for hot dogs from a vendor and walked into Grant Park. "You still looking  
  
toward law school?" Leo asked. "Still interested in getting into politics someday?"  
  
"Yeah." Josh said. "I did some work for the Senate campaign last fall. Mostly scut work,  
  
but I learned a lot."  
  
"So, tell me what happened today." Leo said, changing the subject.  
  
"Didn't you see the police report?"  
  
"I saw what the report said-now I want to hear what happened."  
  
Josh wiped his mouth and pitched his napkin into a trash can. "I was on my way to the  
  
State of Illinois Building to do some research, and I saw these guys setting up. Six of  
  
the dweebiest looking hicks in their brown-shirts and jackboots. Honest, Mr. McGarry,  
  
there wasn't one of them that could pass a standard Army physcial..."  
  
"Enough with the commentary, Josh-stick to the facts."  
  
"O.K." Josh said, chastised. "Anyway, when I came back through the Plaza, The were all  
  
lined up in front of this little platform. Except one guy. He had the bullhorn and he  
  
was-the stuff he was saying was...not only inflamitory, it was inaccurate."  
  
"So, you did-what?"  
  
"I...corrected him."  
  
"You broke his nose, Josh." Leo said, shaking his head.  
  
"No, that was later. This was a 'free exchange of ideas'. So he answered back and then I  
  
answered back and then he's got his finger in my face, and I told him to take it out of  
  
my face and he didn't, so...I bit it." Josh looked sideways at Leo for a reaction. "After  
  
that, it was pretty much a melee."  
  
"So...you didn't hear about this rally, and seek it out-you just happened apon it in the  
  
normal course of your day."  
  
"Pretty much." Josh said. "So...my Dad asked you to handle it?"  
  
"Yes. And he asked me to deliver a message."  
  
"What?" Josh asked. The smack to the back of his head came suddenly and without warning.  
  
Josh rocked forward from the force of it and then looked at Leo. "Yeah, that's my Dad."  
  
he said, looking down.   
  
"Do you have any idea what you're being charged with?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Leo pulled out the flimsy from the arrest report and held it up. "Public Nuisance.  
  
Inciting to riot. Assault and Battery. Resisting arrest."  
  
"Resisting? I didn't..."  
  
"Didn't you notice the cops who were detailed to the rally, just in case there was  
  
trouble? According to the report, as soon as the first punch landed they moved in and  
  
placed everyone under arrest. The reports states that it took two cops to get you off the  
  
guy. That's resisting. That and the assault are your biggest problems. Beyond the fact  
  
that you probably screwed the pooch with your Justice Department Internship, for a guy  
  
heading for law school with an interest in government service this kind of charges are  
  
problematic."  
  
Josh sat down hard on a park bench, the facts finally sinking in. "So, what do I do?"  
  
"You do nothing. Leave it to me."  
  
"I have to talk to my boss at Justice."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"Aaron Marchant."  
  
"You know Edward Bright?"  
  
"Only by reputaion."  
  
"I know him-we go back a ways. Let me handle it."  
  
Josh nodded and looked down glumly. Leo sat beside him. "It wasn't the "free exchange of  
  
ideas" that set you off, was it, Josh? Or the finger in the face. It was  
  
something...specific."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What?"  
  
Josh looked up and the pain in his face was obvious."God...I don't..."  
  
"Do you know it was a lie, what he said?"  
  
"Yes-God, YES!" He clenched his fists.  
  
"Then it has no power. Say it."  
  
The words that came from Josh's mouth died in the air once they were spoken, but their  
  
spirit hung there, suspended in the silence. They sat quietly on the bench for a moment.  
  
"Well," Leo said finally ,"What it lacks in grammer it certainly makes up in venom.  
  
But...there is something to be said for 'sticks and stones'. Josh." Josh looked at him,  
  
annoyed. He opened his mouth to speak and then turned away. "It's alright," Leo said.  
  
"You can say whatever you want to me."  
  
"With all due respect, Mr. McGarry-these guys didn't try to annihillate *your* entire  
  
race." Josh said, looking straight ahead.  
  
"Neither did these guys, Josh." Leo said. He stood up then. "You think these guys are  
  
anything but the brownshirted dweebs you called them? Look at me." Josh looked up. Leo  
  
smiled at the young man. "In all the written histories of all the nations of the world,  
  
there are people like these. They see their lives-wasted and unfufilled. They have no  
  
guts, no self-determination. Or they're just too damned stupid and lazy. So they look  
  
around for someone or something to blame it all on. They're afraid, Josh-so they decide  
  
that the only way to feel good about themselves is to look at you and say, 'You are less  
  
than I am.'"  
  
Josh looked up at Leo. "It doesn't matter why that hate exists, Mr. McGarry-it exists.  
  
And it needs to be addressed. Not just in these small groups, but the thousands of  
  
ignorant bigoted ..."  
  
"It is addressed, Josh." Leo said. "In laws. It's ironic that everyone is afforded the  
  
right to spew their hate for the price of a parade permit, but that is the essence of the  
  
1st ammendment. It's my belief-and your father's as well, by the way-that the day these  
  
idiots give a rally and no one shows up to react to it is the day they'll stop wasting  
  
their money on parade permits." He sat down again and put his hand on Josh's shoulder.  
  
"Yes, Josh-hate exists. Bigotry exists. And those with intelligence and the power to  
  
reason speak out as well. That power is so much stronger than what you faced today. The  
  
only power *they* possessed was provocation. And today - with you - they won."   
  
Leo looked out toward the city he loved. "I've been involved in politics a long time,  
  
Josh. I hope to get involved in the national scene soon. So I know the purpose of  
  
government service is to affect positive change. You didn't do that today. All you did  
  
was jeopardize your future, and prove to that guy that he was right about you. I  
  
guarantee you this-right now, he's sitting in some dive bar with his buddies, nursing his  
  
broken nose and crowing that he got over on the kike."  
  
Josh sat looking at his father's friend. "Tell me what I should do." he said quietly.  
  
"You don't do anything. I'll give you a ride home. Put some ice on that eye and wait for  
  
my call."  
  
"I can take the El. It's not far from here." They started walking out of the park.  
  
"Thanks, Mr. McGarry."  
  
"Don't thank me yet, Josh. And listen...for this to work, a lot of people are going to  
  
have to go to bat for you. We don't waste favors in this town. If you're going to  
  
continue to be the kind of guy that goes off half-cocked..."  
  
"I won't. I promise."  
  
"Good. Because I think I bruised my knuckles on the back of your head." They had reached  
  
the El platform. Leo put out his hand. "When this is over, come out to the house and have  
  
a home cooked meal."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Or call my office and we'll grab some lunch...under better circumstances."  
  
"Sure. I'd like that."   
  
Josh started up the stairs to the El platform. "Josh!" Leo called. The young man turned  
  
back.  
  
"I know it's not the same thing," he said, "but if you think my ancestors weren't  
  
oppressed or annihilated then you haven't read much Scots-Irish history." Leo turned and  
  
went back to his office to make some phone calls.  
  
So. Calls were made. Favors called in. Chicago is, after all - the city that works. But  
  
in this case, it was the persuasive character of Leo McGarry that ruled the day.   
  
So it was that on Monday, at 10:40am, a contrite Joshua Lyman stood before the court in  
  
a suit and tie and a fresh haircut, and pleaded no contest to the charge of public  
  
nuisance. He was fined $50 and given a month's probation, after which his record would be  
  
expunged.  
  
He stood on the steps of the courthouse and shook hands with his father's friend, and  
  
then returned to his internship duties at the Justice Department Office.   
  
Later that night, as Josh spoke at length with his father on the phone, Leo played with  
  
his young son Nathan, and looked forward to the day that they could met in Grant Park and  
  
share a hot dog while they talked about life.  
  
Leo's Office, 8:20pm  
  
Nathan.  
  
It caught him off guard, and it shouldn't have. From the moment he had been told that he  
  
was assigned the Lincoln Bedroom, he knew that the memory loop would be close at hand,  
  
waiting for the moment to pop in on him, like an unwelcomed guest. He had just been  
  
talking about it.  
  
The Poker Game at the OEOB, the previous night.  
  
"The demon of intemperence ever seems to have delighted in sucking the blood of genius  
  
and of generocity." Abraham Lincoln, 1842  
  
"I've noticed," Leo said, "That as I've gotten smarter, so have my addictions. You've  
  
heard me talk about my toolbox."  
  
The fellow travelers nodded. "I keep it close at hand. In it, are all the things that  
  
keep me sober. My daughter. My friends. My convictions. My job. All the things that would  
  
be lost to me if I chose to drink." He took a long last drag on the cigarette, which was  
  
nearly down to the filter. He put it out. "But...my addictions have a toolbox as well. In  
  
it...there's a memory loop. Sometimes I can sense it's coming, sometimes not. It's most  
  
likely to put in an appearance in times like these when I'm already feeling...depressed.  
  
It's like there's a part of my brain that says 'Hey, Leo! Depressed are yah? Hell, this  
  
is nothin'! Remember *this* ? Or *this*?' "  
  
"Is it with you now?", someone asked quietly.  
  
"I'm hanging in there." he replied. "But it's coming. I'm preparing myself for it. I  
  
think that's why I'm here tonight."  
  
"Our brains work differently.", someone said. Leo and the others nodded.  
  
Leo's Office, 8:30pm  
  
He fought back. He opened his toolbox. He called Mallory and talked with her, asking  
  
her about her studies. Assuring her he was alright. The loop tried to send him a memory  
  
of his daughter's life with an alcoholic father. He fought back. He told her he loved her  
  
more than anything in the world. She said she loved him to, and was proud of him.   
  
There was a tap on the Oval Office Door, and an aide entered. "He's ready for you, Mr.  
  
McGarry."  
  
"Thank you." Leo said, gratefully. The loop was unwelcome in the Oval, as if it to did  
  
not possess the proper clearance.  
  
  
  
The Situation Room, 10:34pm  
  
  
  
As on many other days, this was his last stop. He'd been briefed 30 minutes ago, but  
  
still he placed his hand over the panel and the door opened. Even this late, the room was  
  
filled with uniformed men in tight groups, each with a single purpose. They acknowledged  
  
his presense, waiting for instruction. He waved them off and walked up to Admiral  
  
Fitzwallace, who was standing with a young major Leo had never seen before.  
  
"Fitz." he said.  
  
"Leo McGarry, this is Major Anderson from Intelligence. We've just been going over the  
  
latest report from our Qumar sources."  
  
"Anything new?"  
  
"Nothing to report, Sir. It's been very quiet." the Major said.  
  
"The whole world is quiet tonight." Fitz said.  
  
"Of course it is," said Leo. "It's the story of the two Samurai Warriors."  
  
Fitz smiled, but the Major looked puzzled. "Sir?"  
  
"Major," Leo said, "Don't tell me you've risen to your rank without ever hearing the  
  
story of the two Samurai 's?"  
  
"No, Sir."  
  
Leo looked up at the electronic map of the world. It showed times zones, longitudes and  
  
latitudes. The location of battle groups and troup movements. It seemed to show  
  
everything but where Zoey Bartlet was. After a long moment, Leo spoke.  
  
"Two Samurai Warriors stood facing each other in the rain, their swords drawn. But  
  
neither moved-because they both knew that the first to do so had already lost the  
  
battle."   
  
He looked over at Fitz. "Good Night." he said, wearily.  
  
As Leo walked out the door, Admiral Fitzwallace turned to the young Major. "It doesn't  
  
matter that you've never heard the story of the Two Samurai Warriors, Major. The  
  
important thing is-you just met one."  
  
  
  
The Lincoln Bedroom, 10:50pm  
  
"I have been driven many times upon my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had  
  
nowhere else to go." , Abraham Lincoln, 1864  
  
His suits and shirts had been hung in the armoire, underclothes and socks neatly  
  
arranged in the bureau. He set his briefcase down, and walked into the adjoining  
  
bathroom, trying to forestall what he knew was coming. He knew he could not stop it-not  
  
in this room-he could only prepare for it. His terrycloth robe-a gift from Jordan-had  
  
been hung on the back of the door, his shaving kit set on the sink. He undressed and got  
  
into the shower, letting the hot water pound against his body. He had not called Jordan  
  
today and now-in this room-he could not. But he used his knowledge of their love to  
  
prepare himself.  
  
From the first, his attraction to her had been unexpectantly strong. He had thought  
  
that-at least for the balance of his time in the White House-that was a part of him that  
  
was untouchable-and unmanageable. Washington matrons dangled suitable women in front of  
  
him at the few social functions he was forced to attended, but he was courtious to  
  
them-and unmoved by them. The day Jordan had walked into his office to consult with him  
  
about his testimony at the Bartlet hearings, it was like a stone was rolled away from in  
  
front of his heart.  
  
The strength of their relationship progressed slowly. Both were committed to their  
  
careers, both workaholics. But both recognised that that commitment was one of their  
  
strongest bonds. They respected each other's choices, enjoyed the time they could spend  
  
together, and accepted the circumstances that kept them apart.   
  
Toweling off and putting on his robe, Leo thought about the night before. They both knew  
  
that the present circumstances made it impossible for them to be together at all. For all  
  
his cool talk with the staff, he knew very well he was being monitored.   
  
She was the Special Council to his Office. Any appearance that it were more than that  
  
could damage them both.  
  
Leo walked back into the bedroom. For the first time, he noticed a silver tray on the  
  
side table. On it stood an ice bucket which held a bottle of club soda, and a small  
  
bottle of milk. On a china plate was a pear and some shortbread cookies. An envelope  
  
rested against it, addressed to him. He opened it.  
  
Mr. McGarry,  
  
Ms. Locke thought you might enjoy some light refreshment before turning in.  
  
If you require anything during the night, please feel free to call the night porter at   
  
extention 223.   
  
One of the larger guest rooms on the second floor will be available tomorrow.  
  
With your permission, I will have you moved down there in the morning.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
E.R. Williams  
  
Leo picked up the pear and looked at it. It was ripened to perfection, without a mark or  
  
bruise. The cookies were perfectly square and evenly baked. He took a bite, and opened  
  
the bottle of milk. Standing there in his bare feet, he looked around the room. The  
  
victorian paper on the walls, the massive bed that dominated the room. He looked out the  
  
window and could see the magnolia tree outside. He heard his own voice, from over four  
  
years before.  
  
  
  
"See that?" he had said seductively, "Andrew Jackson planted that magnolia."  
  
"Another one of your heros." Jenny had answered.  
  
  
  
Alone now in the Lincoln Bedroom, Leo looked down at the carpet under his feet. It was  
  
coming now. He had no choice but to let it.  
  
The night of the first Inaugural, 2:45am  
  
Leo had accepted the President's invitation to spend the night of the Inaugural at the  
  
White House, but was surprised that he and Jenny had been housed in the Lincoln Bedroom,  
  
concidering that the Residence was filled to compacity with the Bartlet's family and  
  
friends.  
  
Jed had waved him away when Leo tried to defer, "Who else but an american history buff  
  
like yourself deserves to sleep there? Besides-you earned it."  
  
They had shared a final night-cap with the President and First Lady, and then Leo had  
  
led a giddy Jenny down the corridor to the Lincoln Bedroom. He was giddly himself-and had  
  
been all day-in a way that booze had never even come close to.  
  
He had stood close to Bartlet as he took the Oath of Office, holding Jenny's hand. He  
  
had listened with pride to the words of Toby and Sam, the mandate of their future  
  
administration. Later, at the balls, he looked around at so many Democrats who a year  
  
before had shaken their heads at him. Hoynes was their man then. Leo McGarry was losing  
  
touch with political reality by betting on a pipe-dream from a insignificant state. But  
  
his powers of persuasion and Jed's own magnetism and honesty had won them over. They  
  
looked at him now, and nodded their regard. Hoynes himself nodded to Leo from across the  
  
crowded Ballroom. They had walked in the Rose Garden earlier in the evening, and talked  
  
about the future. But foremost in his memories of that night was Jenny-standing by his  
  
side.  
  
He opened the door with a flourish and they entered the room. "Oh, my..." Jenny said.  
  
She had a degree in design and knew a great deal about american antiques, but as he had  
  
hoped-the room had taken her breath away. He slipped her wrap off her shoulders.  
  
"'Somethin', isn't it?" he said, grinning.  
  
She walked ahead, her hands gliding over the footboard of the huge bed. "I've seen  
  
pictures, but...oh MY."  
  
He lead her to the window. "See that?" he said said seductively, "Andrew Jackson planted  
  
that magnolia."  
  
"Another one of your heros." Jenny answered.  
  
"Lincoln's hero to." he said, pointed to a portrait of Jackson. "Lincoln hung this  
  
portrait in his private study. Let me show you something else." he said, taking her hand.  
  
He led her over to a carved victorian desk. The top was protected by glass, and  
  
underneath it, she could see the parchment document.  
  
"Is that the Gettysburg Address?"  
  
"Yep. Hand-written. Only five in existance." His voice grew low and seductive and he put  
  
his arms around her waist.  
  
"Hmmm...American history trivia." she said, smiling at his change in demeanor. "My  
  
husband expects to get lucky. So...Lincoln slept here..." She pulled open his bowtie.  
  
"Well...not *here*. He slept in the bed, but this wasn't his bedroom originally."  
  
"It wasn't?" she said, starting on his shirt studs.  
  
"No." He unhooked her gown and slowly unzipped it. "It was Truman who turned this into a  
  
shrine to Lincoln." Her dress slipped off her shoulders and puddled on the floor. "This  
  
was his Cabinet Room. This whole wing was offices until Teddy Roosevelt built the new  
  
wing in 1902." He nuzzled her neck. "The Emancipation Proclaimation was signed here."  
  
"Where does that lead to?" she asked, pointing to an inner door.  
  
"That was Lincoln's private study. It couldn't be reached from the outer hall, only  
  
through this room. That way he could escape when he needed to."  
  
"I'll bet that thought occurred to him quite often."  
  
"Well, Josiah Bartlet's about to find out."  
  
"That is quite a bed..." she whispered, pulling his shirt open.  
  
"Lincoln wasn't the only President to sleep in it, you know...Teddy Roosevelt, Calvin  
  
Coolidge...Eleanor Roosevelt slept in it to. And now...Jenny McGarry." He kissed her  
  
deeply, and she responded. Finally breaking away, she held her hand to her throat,  
  
touching the diamond choker. "My extravagent husband...you really shouldn't have."  
  
"Why not? My wife has a great neck. I like to show it off." She turned away from him at  
  
that, and worked at the clasp. He came over to help, recognising that a veil had fallen  
  
over the mood. "Jenny? What is it?"  
  
"You didn't have to reward me for being a good political widow." she said softly.  
  
He turned her around. "That wasn't why I did it, Jenny. I did it because I love you.  
  
Yes, I'm grateful that you've hung in there this year with me on the road all the time,  
  
but you'll see-it won't be so bad now. I won't be traveling like I was when I was Labor  
  
Secretary." He moved in to nuzzle her, but he could feel that she was still resisting.  
  
"What about now?" she asked, "'They also serve who only stand and wait'?"  
  
Leo sighed. "You're going to be doing much more than that." he said. "You heard Abbey  
  
tonight. You *saw* the Residence. She was practically gagging every time she walked in  
  
the living room. She needs you to help her."  
  
"That was a *bone* she threw me, Leo." Jenny said hotly, "She could get anyone to  
  
redecorate the Residence."  
  
Leo stepped back and sighed. "Well, she didn't ask *anyone* did she? She asked you.  
  
Look, Jen-if you don't want to do it, don't do it."  
  
Suddenly, Jenny reached out and put her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry..." she said.  
  
"I'll do it. I mean, I want to do it. That was just the wine talking..." Leo held her  
  
gently, stroking her hair, even though he knew that it wasn't just the wine talking.  
  
Jenny had never felt comfortable with the Bartlets-in fact seemed to resent them. Was it  
  
because of his admiration and close bond with Jed? Because he was the one Leo had turned  
  
to when he hit rock bottom? Did she resent Abbey for *not* resenting the friendship? Leo  
  
did not know. He did not ask. It was one of the incomprehensible silences that wound  
  
their way around the marraige pulling and straining at what had once been strong.  
  
So for now, he stroked her hair and she looked up and kissed him again. He lifted her up  
  
and carrying her to the bed, laid her down on it. When he climbed in after her,  
  
struggling out his pants, the bed responded with a resounding *CREAK* They both froze,  
  
looking at each other.  
  
"Oh, no..."said Jenny.  
  
"Uh-huh-no WAY" Leo agreed. "I'm not facing him in the morning if we break a national  
  
treasure!" They both began to giggle.  
  
"Well," Jenny said, getting off the bed. "If we can't say we made love on Lincoln's bed,  
  
we can always say we made love in the Lincoln Bedroom." She pullled her slip over her  
  
head and help out her hand to him. He followed her, pulling her down on the carpet.   
  
Later, they slept spooned together on the bed, undisturbed by the past-or the future  
  
they had no way of knowing. For sooner or later, The Residence redecoration would be  
  
completed, but the enormous task of running the West Wing would go on-keeping Leo away  
  
from Jenny-and all the chokers in the world could not make up for what was slipping  
  
through their fingers.  
  
The Lincoln Bedroom 11:20pm  
  
The pear was finished, and so was the memory. All that was left was the chasm between  
  
the dreams of that night and the facts facing him now. Jenny gone, John Hoynes ruined,  
  
Bartlet in self-imposed exile. His own dreams for the bright future that was born that  
  
day-stalled by bypartisan maneuvering and an un-disclosed truth.  
  
"At what point, then, is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever  
  
reach us it must spring from among us." Abraham Lincoln, 1838  
  
He looked out the window at the magnolia planted by Andrew Jackson, who had also faced  
  
great trials. He tried to draw faith from him, as he had during the hearings, but his  
  
eyes looked through the fading blossoms across the Mall. Brilliantly lit in the dark  
  
night, stood the Lincoln Memorial. The memory came on him suddenly, powerfully, as all  
  
his memories of Nathan did. He should have known that the memory loop was not finished  
  
with him. He had felt Nathan's presence earlier when he had spoken to Josh. Now, he came  
  
racing into his heart as he had raced through his short life. Leo could feel the small  
  
hand in his, and remember that he had willed himself to remember it. At 7 years old,  
  
Nathan had already begun to declare himself "too old" for bedtime kisses and holding his  
  
father's hand. But that day, faced with the enormous ediface before him, he had taken his  
  
father's hand of his own inclination.  
  
The Lincoln Memorial, 1990  
  
"Go ahead, read it. I'll help you with the tough words."  
  
The boy looked up above the statue of Lincoln. "In this temple...that's like a church,  
  
right?"  
  
"Sort of"  
  
"In this temple, as in the hearts of the people for who...*whom* he saved the Union, the  
  
memory of Abraham Lincoln is en...en..."  
  
"Enshrined. That means...they built this building so that no one would ever forget what  
  
he did for the Nation, or the people. Look." Leo dug in his pocket and pulled out a  
  
penny. He hunkered down next to his young son and handed it to him. "Look-on one side is  
  
the picture of Lincoln. On the other side is a picture of The Lincoln Memorial. Look  
  
really close at the building, Nathan, right in the center..."  
  
Nathan held the penny up and looked closely at it. His face lit up. "You can see the  
  
statue!"  
  
"That's right!" Leo said laughing. "Remember last year, when we went to Springfield? We  
  
saw where Lincoln started."  
  
"Land of Lincoln..." Nathan had said, looking down at the penny.  
  
"That's right. And here in Washington is where he left his mark." Leo reached out and  
  
touched his son's fine blond hair. "Listen, Buddy-I know how tough it is to leave your  
  
friends, start at a new school. It's tough on all of us. But... Dad's got a job to do-to  
  
help the Nation, not as much as Lincoln did but in the best way I can. We'll go back to  
  
visit as often as we can. And you know what I always say-no matter where we live, we will  
  
always be..."  
  
"Men of Chicago!" Nathan said, grinning.  
  
"That's my boy!" Leo said.  
  
The Lincoln Bedroom, 11:40pm  
  
"My boy..."   
  
He had not realised he had spoken until he heard the words echo in the empty room. He  
  
had prepared himself for all other memories but this.  
  
The grief that comes with a child's death is never put to rest, it simply-evolves. At  
  
first the enormity of the loss was overwhelming, blocking out the world. Music heard  
  
blasting from a passing car, or laughter heard from across a room would bring up such a  
  
well of resentment and anger in Leo that only the bottle would keep him from screaming.  
  
He held his wife and his daughter as they wept, but he could not weep for his son. Those  
  
who would comfort him were pushed away-except Jed-who knew enough to stand by silently,  
  
letting his presense be Leo's comfort.  
  
As time passed the pain didn't lessen, it simply became learned. Leo found he could  
  
work, he could be among people, he could even laugh. But the sight of a young boy would  
  
cause him to turn away quickly. It was to be expected, he had thought.  
  
This was his life now. His life Post-Nathan. It was only later-when the downward spiral  
  
ended in Arizona that he realised what he had reduced his boy to. Not a gift from God to  
  
be cherished for as long as he had had him, but an excuse to be dead as well, with the  
  
help of drugs and alcohol.  
  
That was in his toolbox to, and he reached desparetly for it now. The knowledge that  
  
Nathan had passes from life to death in a single moment, without knowing it was  
  
happening, without fear. But most of all, that he had never known his father as Mallory  
  
had known him. He stood at the window, so intent on his struggle that at first, he did  
  
not hear the knock on the door.  
  
"Yes?" he said finally. The knock came again, not from the outer door, but the door to  
  
the adjoining study.  
  
Leo looked at the door, all other thoughts forgotten. He was not a man given to flights  
  
of fancy. He knew what he had heard. He went to the study door and opened it. The room  
  
was dark, the draperies drawn-but a shaft of light came through a vent in the drapes. It  
  
fell across the desk, illuminating a picture frame that rested on it.  
  
The was no aura, no ghost, no draft of cold air. Nothing supernatural-just the moonlight  
  
coming thru the drapes. Leo walked over and picked up the frame. Abraham Lincoln, 16th  
  
President of the United States, sat in a straight-back chair. Beside him stood William  
  
Warren Lincoln, known affectionately as "The Little Corporal". The history of his time  
  
recorded him as a gentle and compassionate child, fun-loving and strangely mature for his  
  
age. During his father's first Administration, he contracted typhiod and died in 1862 at  
  
the age of 11.  
  
"At what point shall we expect the approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify  
  
against it?" Abraham Lincoln, 1838  
  
Leo looked at the tintype in the moonlight, and found in it another tool to stow away.  
  
"You were demeaned and plotted against, and you persevered. ", Leo said to the empty  
  
room. "You lost a beloved child and led a nation back from the brink of destruction. You  
  
were faced with so much more than what faces us now. How do we not live and govern by  
  
your example?"  
  
He stood there a while longer before putting the picture frame down on the desk and  
  
returning to the bedroom. He put on fresh boxers and slipped into the bed, which held no  
  
ghosts for him now. It was just a bed like any other-a place where sleep would bring him  
  
strength. Before drifting off, he thought again of the talks he had had with Lincoln  
  
through this day.   
  
One day, he would have to tell Jed about it.  
  
"The probability that we may fall in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support  
  
of a cause we believe to be just; it shall not deter me." Abraham Lincoln, 1839. 


End file.
